


Con Rules

by breathtaken



Series: Con Rules [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Con Farr, Con Rules, Drag, Hall Passes, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 12:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/breathtaken
Summary: When he made Vax’ildan, he put a lot of Liam into him. His feelings have always run strong and deep, and rarely consent to being tidied away into the neat little boxes set out for them; over the years he’s learned, more or less, to deal with it. To be tactile, but not inappropriate; to fulfil his need for physical affection without pushing boundaries.For seven years now he’s been patient, cautious as he learned everyone’s different comfort zones, took their cues. He’s been so focused on being careful and appropriate that when things actuallychange,he’s completely blindsided.There’s no one reason for it, no clearly-traceable path of cause and effect; but if it starts anywhere then for Liam, it starts with Sam’s live show outfit.





	Con Rules

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a fic about con rules in-action, then it went severely off-message. The actual intended story may follow later. 
> 
> Thank you to my secret fort buddies for their enthusiasm, support and suggestions. As usual, don't share this.

****It’s funny, to think what a one-off D&D game cooked up for an episode of his and Sam’s occasional podcast has led to.

To a seven-year-long journey through two characters that have become as much a part of his heart as anyone who isn’t fictional. To fame, of a sort, and all its complications. To a second family.

To falling in love again, almost as terrifying and affirming as the first time.

When he made Vax’ildan, he put a lot of Liam into him. His feelings have always run strong and deep, and rarely consent to being tidied away into the neat little boxes set out for them; over the years he’s learned, more or less, to deal with it. To be tactile, but not inappropriate; to fulfil his need for physical affection without pushing boundaries. 

It helped that he and Sam were already besties perpetually starved of each other’s company – after the fourth or fifth time Liam climbed into Sam’s lap right at the table and full-body hugged him during a particularly emotional moment, it stopped being eyebrow-raising and just became a thing they did; and cut to two years later, when they were learning to deal with their unexpected popularity just as things were getting as bad for Liam as they ever have, he could rely on all of them to hold him tight, and so keep him together.

For seven years now he’s been patient, cautious as he learned everyone’s different comfort zones, took their cues. He’s been so focused on being careful and appropriate that when things actually _ change, _he’s completely blindsided.

There’s no one reason for it, no clearly-traceable path of cause and effect; but if it starts anywhere then for Liam, it starts with Sam’s live show outfit. 

Liam expects that after spandex, latex, rollerblades and glittery knee-high boots, he’s prepared for any possible ridiculous getup Sam could come up with. His curiosity isn’t even particularly piqued when Sam spends a full hour before the show sequestered away with Ally – but when he finally emerges backstage, just as Brian’s already walking on to warm up the crowd, Liam turns to him and nearly swallows his own tongue.

He’s in... well. To call it _ drag _ is to do it a disservice, even though Liam’s thoughts go _ green – wig – ears – dress – heels, _slamming from point to point like a pinball as for once, he’s completely lost for words.

In the usual cacophony that is six other people reacting to Sam’s outfit reveal, what he picks up on is Laura saying, “Oh my fucking God,” right beside him. “It’s sexy Nott cosplay.”

She isn’t wrong, he decides faintly.

“What _ are _ you,” he manages, looking at the play of lights across thousands of sequins so he doesn’t have to look at Sam’s face, mouth suddenly dry.

He realises that beside Sam, Taliesin’s no longer looking at Sam but at him instead, and when their eyes meet Liam feels uncomfortably transparent.

He swallows and turns away, and waits for his name to be called.

He has plenty of time to get a _ proper _ look when Sam’s announced – because that is, after all, exactly what those thirty seconds are for. And my God, does he look: Sam’s painted green all over, with goblin ears and a long black wig, curled at the ends, but instead of going full cosplay he’s wearing a short-sleeved sequin pencil dress that perfectly matches his skin, and black stilettos. He walks onto the stage like he’s on a catwalk, and as Liam watches him swing his hips and blow a kiss to the roaring crowd, he thinks dazedly that this is a new level of _ unfair. _

He barely looks at Sam during the first half of the game, because curse his own stupid choices in creating an intelligent character who cares about learning from his mistakes and not letting his party blunder head-first into yet another ambush without a proper plan; once it all inevitably falls apart anyway and they end up in combat with another rift-opening fiend he does take the time between turns to notice that Sam’s wearing full eye make-up, cat’s eye contacts and black lipstick, tapping long black nails against the tabletop, and at one point him and all of table two are suddenly wearing matching flower crowns that may have come from the audience or from one of them, he doesn’t know. The flowers balanced on Sam’s ears look at once incongruous and completely fitting, the neckline of his dress flush against his chest like it was tailored to his body, and Liam wrenches his eyes away with some difficulty and looks down at his spell cards, chewing a little on his own tongue to keep himself focused because this is absolutely the worst possible time to be having an awakening.

He makes it to break, pees, and deep breathes alone in his dressing room until their two minute call.

Marisha winks at him as they take their seats again, and for a split second Liam panics before realising she may not actually be implying anything at all, and okay, this is _ bad, _ not _ now, not now – _

He throws himself into trolling everyone else with renewed gusto, because that at least will keep him distracted from things he can’t begin to tackle without sufficient space and time, and probably the help of his therapist.

Which is fine until Fjord starts flirting with _ both _ of the heads of Den Dwendalos simultaneously, in a weird repeat of the Avantika plotline, and the way Matt and Travis are looking at each other makes Liam grin until it doesn’t any more because his own head’s still a mess and he knows _ exactly _what it’s like when Matt’s full-watt intensity is focused on you and you alone.

As Caleb he pretends not to notice, which gets a cheap laugh, but at least it’s a laugh; and then forces himself to shake it off, digging deeper into the character and letting the energy of the audience carry him, not thinking about the way Matt and Travis are looking at each other or the way Sam looks in that dress until they’re getting up for bows and Sam ends up next to him, a full half a head taller as he slings an arm around Liam’s waist and kisses the top of his head, and Liam leans into him teary-eyed and grateful, and doesn’t care that he’s getting green paint all over his arm.

The moment they’re off stage he jumps into Travis’ arms, laughing in delight as Travis spins him around a couple times and Liam more or less climbs him like a tree. The next few minutes pass in a blur of hugs and laughter as they all decamp to the largest dressing room, and it’s only when they put on some music and crack open the bubbly that Liam realises Travis and Matt aren’t actually with them any more.

Laura and Marisha are sat on top of the dressing table together talking to Brian and don’t look like they care, but Liam has to pee again anyway, so he gets up from where he was snuggled under Sam’s arm and heads out of the room, turning the corner – 

Matt has Travis up against the wall, hands on his arms and his body angled close, and they’re looking at each other like there’s no-one else in the world. 

Liam feels like he’s been slapped.

He turns abruptly on his heel and stumbles back into the dressing room.

They all look over, and fall silent when they see his face.

“What?” Laura says, the beginnings of concern beginning to show on her face, and Liam’s heart does this weird little clenching thing as he realises for the first time how close she’s pressed up against Marisha, and thinks, _ is this – _

“Matt and Travis.” It isn’t a question, and when nobody asks he wonders with a flush of heat how much he’s missed, and for how long. Whether they’ve been keeping it from him.

“I’m not surprised, after that game,” Brian jokes, but it falls flat.

“We know,” Marisha says, and her voice is so damn _ careful. _ “It’s not a thing yet. But we’re talking about it.” She hesitates. “You okay?”

“‘Course.” Liam doesn’t even bother putting any effort into the lie. “Just surprised.”

Her expression softens. He keeps his eyes fixed on hers; he doesn’t want to know how the others are looking at him right now. “You should talk to them.”

He can’t do this. Not right now, not with everyone.

“Yeah. I’m gonna get changed,” he hears himself saying, swiping a full glass from the dressing table beside her and trying not to look at her bare thigh where her skirt’s ridden up, just inches from his hand.

He isn’t surprised when Sam follows him into their dressing room, closing the door behind him and holding his arms out. He’s taken his wig off and his contacts out and his paint’s starting to run with sweat, the fake ears look fucking stupid and his lipstick is fading at the centre of his lips, and Liam loves him so much it _ hurts. _

“Come here,” he says, and Liam goes gratefully into his arms without hesitation, lets Sam pull him into a gentle sway, shoulder at the perfect height for Liam to tuck his face into. Sam always knows when there’s too much going on inside him to contain, when he can’t help it spilling over.

Liam smacks him in the arm when he realises the song Sam’s humming is _ Send In the Clowns_.

Sam changes to _ Bolero _by Pink Martini without missing a beat, and they sway in lazy circles for a few minutes before he taps Liam on the temple and says, “What’s going on in there?”

Liam sighs. “I’m jealous,” he admits.

“Of Matt or of Travis?”

“Both?”

“Hmm.” Sam knows him inside out, of course. He knows how Liam feels, how Liam loves. “What would you want, in an ideal world? If you could have anything?”

_ To love _ is _ to want, _ and there are things he doesn’t let himself imagine but he can feel the shape of them just below the surface, feel their heat.

He laughs, a little helpless puff of air. “Whatever I could get,” he confesses, lips a breath away from Sam’s pulse in his throat.

Sam pulls back a little, and cups Liam’s jaw in one still-green hand. He can feel the fake nails against his cheek, and see in Sam’s eyes that he too is at least a little terrified. 

Liam kisses him before he can lose his nerve.

“I need to talk to Amy,” he says a moment later, resting his forehead against Sam’s, feeling fingers skitter against his waist. “And I’m guessing you need to talk to Q.”

“Yeah, I really do.” Sam’s voice shakes a little at the end. “Probably a _ lot. _ This is bigger than just me and you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Sam smiles. “It’s times like this I’m jealous of all the couples in our group.” 

In the strength of Sam’s embrace, the impossible takes on a new possibility, the unsayable becomes something he can say.

“By the way, you look – I had a moment.”

Sam laughs. “I know you did.” His nails rake through Liam’s hair, and he can’t help preening. “I thought ‘Nott but sexy’ would mostly be disturbing for everyone. But I guess I underestimated my sheer animal magnetism.”

Liam snorts. “Yeah, you really did. Naught but sexy for sure.” He skims his hand deliberately over Sam’s hip, and makes himself bite back a comment about getting him _ out _of the dress that on any other night, he would have made.

When he pulls away, Sam’s looking at him like he knows exactly what Liam was just thinking. “However this turns out, it’s gonna change things. A lot.”

Liam shrugs, with a nonchalance he doesn’t really feel. “It’s too late to put the lid back on the box now.” He hesitates, but adds: “At least it’s not just me any more.”

_ At least I’m not alone with this any more. _

Whatever Sam might have said in response is lost when there’s a knock on the door.

It’s Taliesin, peering cautiously in. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all.” Sam sits down at the dressing table, beckoning him inside. “Don’t mind me while I remove about four miles of Spanx.”

“Sure. I brought booze, if that helps.” He holds up another open bottle; Liam deliberately reaches for the glass with the black lipstick mark against the rim.

He drains a good half of it in one swig, and then without letting himself second-guess, lies down next to Tal on the sofa with his legs over one arm and his head in his lap, and closes his eyes.

“How are you doing?” Tal’s voice resonates where Liam’s ear is pressed against his belly, and his nails are blunt against Liam’s scalp. “You had us a little worried there.”

“Sorry,” Liam says automatically, “it’s – it caught me off guard.”

He hasn’t explained this to anyone in a long time. Not since the first giddy months of his friendship with Sam, when he was young and still wore his vulnerability like armor; as he got older he resolved to stop explaining himself and just _ be _ himself, with the result that he’s never actually sat any of the others down and _ said, I don’t only like women _ or _ sometimes it’s an effort of will not to kiss you. _

But if this is the start of something then he knows they’ll need more than that from him; and if anyone understands, he thinks, it will be Tal.

“I haven’t talked about this for a long time,” he starts shakily, and Tal’s other hand finds his, interlacing their fingers.

It’s too much to tell everyone at once, in many senses of the word. He needs to meet them all in the middle, one by one, and that takes something different each time: Travis needs to hear the j-word to really understand; Matt needs to apologise even though he’s done absolutely nothing wrong; Laura needs to joke and reassure in the same breath; Marisha only needs to hear that he has to talk to his wife before he can say much more. Ashley and Brian need to talk to each other before they can really talk to him.

It’s only when he’s getting ready for bed, well into the early hours of the morning, that he realises there are still a few faint smudges of green on his face and arms.

He texts Amy instead of calling. It’s a cop-out, but he’s already wrung out and knows that he won’t be able to talk to her without telling her, and that she doesn’t deserve to have him try and do this on the phone; as on the other bed, Sam is saying calm as you please, “Liam kissed me,” and Liam abruptly tries not to choke on his drink.

“No, he didn’t,” Sam says, as Liam valiantly forces himself not to cough and wonders if Q even knows that he’s _ right here._ “Yeah. So I think we need to check in about that con hall pass again.”

“You have a _ con hall pass,_” Liam says the second he’s sure Sam’s hung up. He feels a little offended that Sam has _ literally never mentioned it. _

Sam grins. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are. Are you planning on sleeping over there?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Liam replies, not a little relieved, as he goes over and climbs in beside Sam, curling up against him and resting his head on his chest, over his heart. 

“You know we love you. _ I _love you. No matter what happens, or doesn’t.” Sam’s arm wraps around Liam’s shoulders, and he feels the press of lips against his forehead, before the light clicks off.

“Love you too,” Liam mumbles against the fabric of his T-shirt, suddenly exhausted. “Love all of you.”

“Now get some sleep.”

“Yes, dad,” Liam replies; and within minutes he’s dreaming of them all, the images hazy and shifting, smiling, holding him tight, loving him back.


End file.
